Waking Up
by Tragic Alchemy
Summary: Commander Shepard awakes from the destruction of London to discover that her teammates weren't as lucky as she... Garrus included. In this piece, we follow Shepard's journey toward wholeness in the absence of the one who had previously made that possible. Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: So well before the extended cut (and when I screwed up myself by going into the final moments of ME3 with an insanely low galactic readiness score), I started jotting down a little story about Femshep's survival and struggle to get past the loss of Garrus... it's been sitting on my computer for awhile, and so I finally decided to start fleshing it out. Reviews are appreciated as they may be the kick in the rear I need to actually finish something I start LOL.

**Disclaimer**: All rights to the Mass Effect series belong to Bioware, not me. I just like playing with their characters.

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**Waking Up**

Chapter 1

Ghosts of her companions floated in her memory as she tried to make out the muffled voices that were reaching her ears.

"Comatose… 72 hours… morphine… penicillin…" The words began to trigger some recognition in the neural pathways of Commander Shepard's brain. But where were the voices coming from? They had no faces and didn't seem to form complete sentences, and all she could see was pure blackness. Then she felt it – a piercing pain in her abdomen. The sensation was so overwhelming that she heard herself groan.

"Was that…?" she heard the voices ask, followed by some shuffling around her. "Shepard?" she heard. She tried to respond, but she couldn't feel anything other than the pain enveloping her. She let out another moan and tried to focus on controlling different parts of her body. Fingers first.

"Shepard?" 'Oh shut it, I'm focusing!' she wanted to yell, but her vocal chords weren't something she had regained control over yet. As she focused more intently on her body, she could barely feel the stiffness that was her arms. She mentally moved down her arms and into her hands, finding her fingers. She pushed to move them, but she couldn't feel any movement. She tried harder, this time letting out another groan, and she felt her knuckles break free as if having been set in stone.

"Can you open your eyes, Shepard?" 'I'm working on it!' she exclaimed in her head. Groaning again, she forced movement in what she had decided was her eyelids. She could see violent streams of white light cutting through the darkness she was in, and the pain intensified causing her to immediately squeeze her eyes shut on reflex. "Someone dim those lights!" the voice demanded. "Try again," it requested a moment later.

Shepard forced her eyelids to cooperate once again, and this time, her sight was met by soft yellow light and shadows of three different figures. She blinked, but the mere shadows remained. She blinked a third and a fourth time, and slowly, the shadowy figures turned into blurred images of medical personnel.

"Commander Shepard, can you hear me?" the human doctor closest to her questioned. She cleared her throat to attempt to speak, but again, all that she could get to come out was a brief groan. Another human doctor, this one a female, stood near the door while a Salarian doctor stood at the foot of her bed. "My name is Dr. Zavala, and I'm here with Dr. Blackburn and Dr. Lillix."

Shepard made noises at the back of her throat, attempting to warm her vocal chords to use them. "Where…" she choked out.

"You're at a hospital outside of London. We're tending to the wounded soldiers from the Reaper War." Shepard stared blankly, trying to recollect the pieces. Why was it that she couldn't remember anything after rushing toward that beam to board the Citadel? Wait, yes. She remembered the Citadel. Remembered the scattered piles of human remains. Remembered the stench of death that was forever burned into her memory. But what else? Only blankness remained.

"I…" Shepard moaned.

"You've suffered extensive injuries," Dr. Zavala continued. "You're recovering from broken ribs, a fractured femur, a dislocated shoulder, and multiple flesh wounds. You nearly lost an eye as well. You lost an immense amount of blood, but we were able to perform an emergency transfusion. We weren't sure if it would be successful considering you've been comatose for several days."

"Where," Shepard tried again.

"I told you. London."

"Where's Garrus?" In her mind it was a full-fledged growl, verging on a threat, but in reality it only came out as a mumble. Regardless, the doctors seemed taken aback as they exchanged anxious glances.

"Commander," the Salarian began, "I'm sorry, but all of your squad mates perished in battle."

"No," she breathed. She briefly choked on her air supply, holding back a dry sob, but the pain in her middle returned with a vengeance making any rapid movement of the diaphragm almost unbearable.

"Commander Shepard, I suggest you relax," said the female doctor.

"Dr. Blackburn is right," chimed in the Salarian, who by deduction appeared to be Dr. Lillix. "After all, the healing of your ribs is what we have found most challenging… aside from your concerning comatose state, of course. We'll give you some morphine for the pain, but try to refrain from excessive movement." Dr. Lillix injected a syringe full of what must have been the painkiller into Shepard's forearm, and the three doctors proceeded to leave the room single file.

"You shouldn't have told her," Shepard heard Dr. Blackburn say after they had reached the doorway.

"I couldn't lie to her," Dr. Lillix defended. And then the voices faded down the hallway.

It didn't take long for the potent pharmaceutical to take effect as it raced through Shepard's bloodstream, and consequently, she drifted in and out of consciousness over the next several hours. In fact, due to the high level of different drugs in her body to help mend and ease the pain of her multiple injuries as well as fight off any infection that may have developed, she drifted in and out of consciousness over the next several days. She had the occasional visitor, Admiral Hackett and the like to thank the Commander for her bravery and dedication, but she refrained from saying much during those meetings. She mainly stuck to the "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," statement formalities. When asked how she was holding up, she would deflect with a simple "thank you for taking the time to stop by" or an "I appreciate your concern" and just leaving it at that. She didn't want to talk about the gaping hole inside of her. Much less, she didn't even want to acknowledge it to herself. She was numb, and that's how she preferred to be.

After she was released from medical care, Admiral Hackett requested a meeting with the Commander.

"Shepard," he began, motioning for her to take a seat.

"Admiral," she addressed with a nod as she followed his request.

"I have realized that after such an extensive and colorful military career, many in your position would be ready to retire right about now."

"Is this just a realization or a suggestion, Admiral?" Shepard questioned. He failed to respond directly to the question. Instead, he shifted his facial expression into one of sympathy. "You can't possibly ask me to leave the Normandy. That place is my home."

"Commander, with all due respect, your home is here on Earth. I feel the Normandy is too emotional of a place for you right now. Without your crew…" he trailed off. "If you don't plan on retiring, I must insist on personal leave."

"What?" While Admiral Hackett was indeed looking out for her best interests, it sure didn't feel that way to Shepard. He was the closest thing she had had to a father in many years, and him asking her to walk away from her last remaining sense of stability dumbfounded her.

"And as a condition of your possible return, you must commit to 12 sequential weeks of psychotherapy."

"A shrink? Doesn't that seem excessive?"

"To be frank, no," he told her without reserve. "You need to talk to someone. As your body has healed from this war, you've been dying little by little." Commander Shepard broke eye contact and stared at the wall, clenching her teeth. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. From Hackett!

"Fine, fine. I do this therapy crap, and I can have my job back?"

"You do this 'therapy crap,' and you will be subject to consideration of reinstatement. I'm sorry, Commander, but I'm afraid this is necessary."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," Shepard said as she stood. "May I leave now?"

"Yes. Take care of yourself," he requested. No, more like pleaded.

Step one was to find a place to live. Shepard settled on a small studio apartment with one window, which she ended up keeping the blinds closed on anyway. She didn't like the apartment. She didn't like the carpet or the drywall or the way the kitchen floor creaked when she stood in front of the sink; it was all too different from the solidarity and steel walls of the Normandy. It seemed that the apartment's only saving grace was the stainless steel refrigerator, where Shepard often found herself running her fingers along the surface just to feel the cool shell.

After unpacking her second, and last, box of personal and necessary belongings, Shepard checked her messages to find a list of recommended mental health professionals from the Alliance. She scoffed, for it was the only reaction she knew how to implement at this point. It was then that she heard an odd noise coming from her door.

Shepard made her way to the front door and opened it, allowing the stale air inside the apartment to uncomfortably stir. She saw no one and no movement.

"Hello?" she questioned to the empty hall. She heard the sound again, a small mew at the end of the hall, and this caused her to redirect her attention downwind. A small gray cat sat at the end of the hall. It didn't seem injured, or even unhealthy for that matter. It was just… alone.

"Hey, cat," she said. It just looked at her expectantly – no fear. "Why don't you head home?" she suggested. Still that wide, blue-eyed stare. "Go on," she encouraged. The cat stood, shook itself off ever so slightly, and then disappeared down the hall and out of sight. After a shrug, Shepard returned to her living quarters, securing the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All rights to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Shepard decided she had no choice but to start the 12 required weeks of psychotherapy. 'Ridiculous,' she thought, but somewhere deep inside, she could hear someone telling her that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. No, it wasn't just anyone; it was Garrus telling her this. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, she was still trying to feel his presence with her, and it was only pushing her further into this dark, self-loathing place. Although there was only pure emptiness where he was supposed to be, she could still hear his voice. It was so clear sometimes that the longing and desperation made her physically sick to her stomach.

"Commander Shepard," Dr. Barton began. He was an older man with little eyes, thick-rimmed glasses, and penny loafers. Shepard revisited her memory looking for the last time she had seen someone with glasses. Corrective surgeries were commonplace in that day and age, and seeing someone embrace their physical shortcoming was a breath of fresh air for her. In addition, he had a large belly on him. Looked as though he enjoyed regular meals. Shepard couldn't help but think that maybe there was a possibility that she could even begin to like this quirky man.

"Just Shepard," she corrected him. Fondness was just a possibility. She was still Shepard, and she was still prepared to make him earn her trust.

"Alright Shepard," he tried again. "If that's what you want."

"It is," she affirmed without skipping a beat.

"I'm going to begin with just some basic questions in order for me to get a better feel of who you are," he said. "I ask you to please answer each question honestly."

"And if there's a question I don't want to answer?"

"Well, we'll have 12 weeks to answer it," he said confidently with a soft smile. "From what I have read from your records, you have quite a military history."

"That's right," she confirmed.

"Mostly with Alliance, experienced a tragic loss on Akuze, a short period with Cerberus. Will you tell me how you ended up with Cerberus for such a short period?"

"I suffered extensive injuries from a… malfunction with my ship. Cerberus took it upon themselves to treat me and get me back on my feet. What with the collector turmoil, Cerberus provided resources for me to take care of it. Due to… idealistic differences, we were forced to part ways." She was surprised at herself as to how professional she sounded. Of course, that wasn't the whole story, but it was enough for argument's sake. At least it seemed to be enough because all Dr. Barton did was nod in understanding as he glanced at his notes for his next question.

"Any family?"

"No," was her answer.

"Friends?" he asked. Images of her prior squad mates flashed in her memory, but she blinked them away in a single breath.

"No."

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Not anymore."

"What does that mean – 'not anymore?'" he inquired.

"It means not anymore," she shrugged.

"Then what do you do now that you're on leave?"

"I…" she thought. What _did_ she do? She thought back on the past two weeks and could recall herself sleeping, heating up soup on the stove, watching news reports for all of maybe 10 minutes because they seemed to depress her, and… what else? Just sitting there to be completely honest with herself. Sitting in different places. The couch, on her bed, the kitchen floor up against the steel refrigerator. What comfort she found in that steel.

"Shepard?" Dr. Barton interrupted her thoughts.

"Honestly?" she asked with a sigh.

"I'd appreciate that," he responded.

"Sitting."

"Sitting," he echoed. "And where is your favorite place to sit?" Shepard felt as though she were being talked to as if she were a toddler, but at the moment, she didn't mind it. She was too busy feeling confused. She wasn't sure if she liked that familiar feeling of someone being interested in her personal well being.

"The kitchen floor," she answered honestly. How much more trouble could she get into anyway? "Against the refrigerator."

"And why is that your favorite place?"

"The refrigerator is stainless steel."

"And it reminds you of your ship?" Dr. Barton guessed.

"Yeah," she said without meeting his eyes.

"Do you ever smile, Shepard?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"What?" The question surprised her, and she wasn't sure if he was being serious. Just to be sure, "Are you serious?"

"For the record, I'll never ask a question not meant to be taken seriously. Honesty is _always_ the best policy."

"Sure, I smile," she answered matter-of-factly.

"When's the last time you smiled?" Dr. Barton acquired.

"I don't know," she said.

"Think about it," he encouraged.

"Dr. Barton, I—"

"Doc," he cut her off.

"Huh?"

"My clients call me Doc. Less formal that way," he explained.

"Uh, okay."

"So, when's the last time you smiled?" he repeated. "Honestly," he added with a smirk, guessing what Shepard's next question would be. She thought about it. The last smile… suddenly, Garrus's face was in her head, and she couldn't breathe.

"I don't want to answer this one," she said as she choked on her air supply.

"But you know the answer," he suggested.

"Yes!" Shepard aggressively exclaimed and thereafter released an exasperated sigh. Doc let the moment dissipate and pass. He was an experienced psychologist, as he had been a military appointed psychotherapist for the previous 25 years. He loved his job, and while he knew he was seen as an enemy in the eyes of many, he truly felt that this was his calling in life. After all, following one's calling was a critical part of his personal mantra.

"How often do you go out?" he asked, changing the topic once again.

"Out where?" Shepard clarified.

"Out anywhere. To the cinema, for a walk, for a frozen dessert."

"I leave to come here or get groceries. And even grocery shopping doesn't happen too often. I mainly just get canned soups that can be heated up on the stove, and I store up enough to last me a couple weeks."

"I see," Doc said. "Here's what we're going to do these next 12 weeks," he proposed. Shepard raised an eyebrow, curious as to where this was going. "Every week, I'm going to come up with a personal challenge for you to complete outside of this office. Are you up for some challenges?"

"Always. Challenge is my middle name," she responded. 'Or, at least it used to be,' she finished mentally.

"So, this week, I challenge you to find an excuse to go out. Anything, just get outside."

Shepard left Doc's with one thing on her to-do list: go outside. She thought it was silly, but doctor's orders. Plus, he challenged her, and the first step to becoming the Shepard she once knew was to follow through with these challenges. She never would have declined before.

'Go outside, go outside, go outside,' she repeated to herself the next day. 'Find an excuse to go outside.' She tried to think back to reasons she would go outside when she still felt like… well, like herself. 'Heh, a raid maybe,' she thought. 'Wait, maybe that's it.' She ran. A lot. _That_ was what would make her feel like herself. Before she could even consider procrastinating, she laced up an old pair of running shoes and let herself out.

"Mew." She looked down the hall where she had previously seen her feline visitor, and there it was, looking at her intently.

"Hey, cat," Shepard greeted and then walked down toward the other end of the hall.

Shepard planted her feet into the asphalt, convinced that maybe she had forgotten how to run. She couldn't have, could she? Of course not. She shook the doubt and faced north. Putting her right foot in front of the left, she stepped forward and began walking. Slowly at first, then briskly. Finally, she broke into a run. The moment her legs broke lose from that stationary phase she had committed to, she could feel the rust breaking loose from her joints. At last, she felt free. She sped up the street and continued several blocks just letting the breeze run its slender fingers through her hair and the sun settle on her skin.

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**A/N: **I promise I'll start making these chapters longer... I just got off of work early today and decided that this was how I wanted to spend my afternoon. Much love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **All rights to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 3

"So, you went for a run?" Doc confirmed during the next meeting. He seemed impressed with Shepard's initiative, but he shouldn't have expected anything less after reading through her military history. "And how did it feel?"

"…Right. It just felt right," Shepard said while thinking back to the feel of the impact between the soles of her shoes and the warm asphalt.

"I imagine you did a lot of running during the course of your career," he said.

"Just a little," Shepard said sarcastically.

"So you _do_ have a sense of humor," Doc said with a smile. Shepard couldn't mirror that smile because all she could think about was the last time she had ran. Not the one she had done for Doc's challenge, but the last time she _really_ ran. London. To the beam that would lead her to the Citadel. That was the last time she had seen her friends. And the last time she had seen him… the only person she had ever given her whole heart to. "Paging Commander Shepard."

"What?"

"I called your name several times. What were you thinking about?" Doc inquired.

"It's just Shepard, remember?" she deflected.

"Do you have an aversion to your title?" he responded. He was good. Quick. Always on his toes and ready to respond. He was perfect for the military.

"No," she shot back.

"But you _are_ ranked as Commander."

"Debatable."

"How so?" he inquired.

"I'm on leave, remember?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't make you any less of a Commander," he said.

"Killing my crew does," she let slip. She immediately realized what she had said and tried to decide on whether or not she should try to backtrack. She was sure Doc could keep up with her, but she had to try. "It was a suicide mission, though. I should have expected it," she recovered.

"You killed your crew?" Well, looks like her attempt at redirecting was unsuccessful. She was going to have to be more forward.

"Let's talk about something else," she said.

"Like what you were thinking about just before we got onto the Commander debate?" he asked.

"I don't remember." But of course she did. How could she forget something so awful?

"Okay, so let's revisit a question you didn't want to answer last time. When is the last time you smiled? Are you ready to answer this one?"

"No," she answered.

"Will you try?"

"I would say 'no,' but you're just as persistent as I am."

"That's why I've been in this line of work for nearly 30 years," he responded with a smile as he leaned back in his chair. "Start with the easy stuff. Just tell me when it was, no other details."

"The last battle against the Reapers in London," she said blankly. She said the words without focusing on them because she didn't want to place herself into that memory at the given moment. If she didn't think about the words, she didn't have to think about the memory, right?

"Good. That's good." Shepard felt slightly conflicted being rewarded with a simple statement of praise. It was good to reflect on things that made her miserable? "I would like for us to work on fleshing out that memory."

"Is that this week's challenge? Remember a memory?"

"Nah, that's something I'm going to help you with. This week's challenge is all on you."

"Which is…?" Shepard prodded

"Smile."

"What?"

"You heard correctly. I want you to smile. It's obviously been awhile," he said. Was he trying to replace the last smile with this one? How could he do that to her? She never wanted to let go of that moment. Never.

"Doc, you don't know what you're asking of me," Shepard argued.

"Tell me what worries you about this."

"I… I may not want to remember the last time I smiled, but I don't want to forget it either."

"Don't worry. That memory is something you can always keep with you. I'm not trying to make you forget it; I'm just trying to make something so natural as smiling easier for you to engage in. More than recalling that specific memory, I want you to remember _how to smile_. Make sense?"

"I suppose," Shepard said, taking his word for it.

"Mew," said the feline as Shepard returned from another run a couple days later. Making running a routine helped Shepard establish a sense of normalcy, which she and Doc had agreed would be a good thing.

"Hey there, soldier," Shepard greeted the cat. "Fighting the good fight?" she asked. It mewed once more, blinked its large, blue eyes at her, and disappeared down the hall.

Shepard let herself inside and thought about the week's challenge – smiling. What did she have to smile about? The news reports were mostly disappointing, and she didn't have friends to make small jokes with. 'I suppose this one will take some time,' she thought. And maybe not so much concentration. She decided that if she tried too hard, she'd never be able to do it. It was similar to that phenomenon where when one is trying desperately to find a misplaced item, moments after having given up, it is found.

She still hadn't found the smile by the time she met with Doc for her following session.

"How'd the challenge go?" Doc inquired.

"It didn't" Shepard said regretfully. "I mean, I went through the motions – the technical part of pulling your lips back from your teeth, but I never got it right."

"That's alright," Doc said.

"No, it's not," Shepard retorted. "I hate failing."

"You didn't fail."

"Then why is my squad dead?" The wind was suddenly knocked out of her. Seeing their faces was so painful.

"Close your eyes," Doc tried. Shepard did as she was told. It was the only thing she could do at the time to keep from going mad. "Think about something really, really funny. Either a joke you once heard, a conversation you once had, or a very silly accident that had once occurred." While the thought of Garrus's face made her stomach turn in despair, she couldn't help but think of target practice on the Citadel.

"Rampaging Klixen," she heard him say. "That's how you separate the rookies from the pros." And it happened! She laughed! The moment she recognized the sounds coming from her throat, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop it.

"And that's how you smile," Doc said, his words dripping with satisfaction. Shepard couldn't respond. Laughing was wrong, she decided. It felt wrong. She felt so embarrassed with herself that hot tears began to sting her eyes. "Why can't you let yourself enjoy the humor in the scene you just imagined?"

"It's as if I'm spitting on their graves," she admitted painfully.

"Laughing is not disrespectful to those we have lost," he said. Noticing that his last statement didn't change her mind, he asked, "The person in that memory, are they someone you lost in the war?"

"Yes."

"Then think of it this way, you are honoring them. Keeping them fondly in your memory is a way of embracing the life they had… did this person have a significant impact on your life?"

"He did," she said in a whisper.

"Then allow him the privilege of continuing to impact your life… through fond memories." Shepard let his words sink in, and they made her feel better. Garrus would never want her to be miserable, but she couldn't help but feel miserable without him. "Let me ask you something else," Doc said.

"Of course," Shepard responded. That was his job, wasn't it?

"The person in the memory you just laughed to… does this happen to be the same person in the 'last smile' memory?"

"…Yeah."

"He was special to you. Made you happy," he concluded.

"Yes."

"And his name?"

"No, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Shepard said to halt the conversation.

"Perfect."

"Perfect?" Shepard clarified.

"Absolutely! That's your next challenge. Say his name." Shepard just stared at him. She felt panicked inside just thinking about it.

"Can I have a different challenge?" she requested.

"Nope."

"Was worth a try," she mumbled.

When she returned home, Shepard reflexively glanced down the hall for her feline friend. Of course, there he was, sitting comfortably and watching her curiously. Instead of just talking to him, she decided it was time she try approaching him. After all, he must have been just as lonely as she was.

"Hey, soldier," she said as she stepped lightly toward him.

"Mew," he responded as he continued to watch her. Once she had gotten to him, she knelt down next to him. Before she could reach out to pet him, he got up and brushed himself up against her thigh.

"Nice to finally meet you, too," she said as she stroked his back, reciprocating the affection.

Thunder had awoken Shepard in the middle of the night, so after making some tea, she sat on the kitchen floor up against the refrigerator. She listened to the storm harmonize with the hum of the fridge and closed her eyes as she breathed in the steam from the tea. She envisioned herself in her cabin on the Normandy. She let her head droop to the side and felt her hair fall across her face. She imagined Garrus there with her, running his hand through her hair. She could hear that deep Turian purr that used to resonate from the back of his throat.

"Garrus," she whispered. She said it without realizing it, and once she noticed that she had completed the most recent challenge, she said it again. "Garrus," she repeated, this time louder. "I miss you, Vakarian." And she let herself crumple on the kitchen floor to grieve his loss.

"Garrus Vakarian," Doc said after Shepard had finished sharing the story of her private moment in the kitchen with his memory. "I can recall his name from your files."

"Of course you can. He was my right hand since the beginning. It would be impossible to read my history without coming across his name," she said. 'And I was desperately in love with him,' she finished mentally.

"And more than a friend?" he investigated further. Shepard just nodded at the inquiry. "So let's revisit to that 'last smile' memory. We know the where, when, and who. Would you like to share the what?"

"It was a goodbye," Shepard said.

"What was said?" Doc encouraged.

"We talked about retiring together. And then it transformed into something else… he told me not to die, and I promised him he'd never be alone… I never expected to survive that mission. I was supposed to die, not him." Shepard didn't realize that the more she talked, the quieter she got. In addition, her eyes began to leak; she was getting tired of crying.

"You promised him he'd never be alone in the event that you died. Is it possible he would have made the same promise to you?" In Shepard's mind, it wasn't a possibility – it was a certainty.

"The last thing he would have done is abandon me," she admitted. She let the thought travel, and Doc could tell her mind was creating something. There was silence in the room as Sheperd imagined Garrus in his last moment. She could see his look of endearment as she appeared in his mind.

"Sorry, Shepard," she could hear him say.

"No, don't be sorry. This is my fault," she whispered back at the empty air.

"You're talking to him," Doc observed. Shepard locked eyes with him, fearing his judgment. "That can be a good thing," he assured. "Cathartic."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Well, that takes care of challenge number four."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I was going to encourage you to talk to him in some way. A letter. A private conversation. I wanted you to know that while his physical form isn't here, he will always exist in your memory."

"I like that challenge," Shepard admitted.

"Please feel free to talk to him more on your own time."

"I will," she promised. Yes, she would. She wanted to talk to Garrus so badly, and realizing that she still could changed her entire world. Sure, she wouldn't get a response other than what she could envision herself, but she felt she knew him well enough to imagine his tender words of encouragement and charming sense of humor.

"Goodnight, Garrus," she had said to the empty pillow next to her the next night. While she felt her heart sink with the words, the comfortable feel of the words rolling off her tongue was a familiar sensation that she clung to. Consequently, saying goodnight to him became customary during her end-of-day routine.

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**A/N: **I managed to make this chapter slightly longer. Hope you enjoy! Much love to all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **All rights to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 4

"You tell him goodnight every night?" Doc asked.

"Yes."

"That's good," he assured. "Now I'm going to ask something that may seem like an odd question."

"Go for it," Shepard beckoned.

"Do you leave a space for him in bed at night?" There was no denying that she did, and her silence seemed to give it away. "I see," Doc said.

"What does that have to do with anything? Is it wrong that I still want to imagine him next to me?"

"No, not at all."

"Then why is it important?" Shepard asked.

"This could go one of two ways – either you're in denial that he's not coming back, or you're accepting the fact that his spot won't be filled." Shepard pondered on that for a moment before she opened her mouth to speak.

"I understand that he's gone… I just don't want to feel alone." Doc was nodding at her explanation. "What does the nod mean?"

"We talked about him not abandoning you. I think this is a good thing."

"You _think_ it's a good thing?" Shepard clarified.

"It keeps you at ease, right?" Shepard nodded. "Then yes, I would say it's a good thing." There was silence between them for awhile. There seemed to be less to talk about the further Shepard got through her mandated recovery plan. "Shepard, are you tired?" The question seemed out of the blue.

"Always," she confirmed.

"When was the last time you took a look at yourself?" he asked.

"You mean, like… figuratively?" She was slightly puzzled.

"No, literally," he answered. "When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?" It was curious that he would ask that. Shepard had hung a towel over the mirror in the tiny apartment bathroom ever since she moved in; she hadn't wanted to face herself.

"I don't have a mirror," she lied.

"I doubt that, Shepard."

"It's not impossible," she argued.

"You have a mirror," Doc decided.

"Yeah, I do," she admitted. 'Great way to just give in, Shepard. What's happened to you?' she internally questioned herself.

"Challenge five: look in the mirror. It's time to face yourself."

Standing at the sink in the small bathroom, she brushed through her wet hair and stared at the towel-covered mirror. She was trying to detangle the reasons why something so simple was so frightening to her. This wasn't just any woman – this was Shepard. And this was just a mirror – a mirror! She tossed her hairbrush aside and placed both hands on the counter to lean forward and stare down the towel blocking her reflection.

"Just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are. Love, G," she could recall from her messages before the disaster on Earth. She thought about how much she must have aged since then and tried imagining the changes in her face. She decided she couldn't waste her time guessing, so after an aggravated sigh, she pulled the towel from its resting place over the mirror.

Her hair was longer – that was the first obvious change. Her skin had lost its healthy glow and was pale. Her lips were colorless, no longer the warm, natural pink that they used to be. Her eyes bothered her the most. The fire in them had faded, leaving them almost lifeless, and light, purple circles had made their home just beneath them. An unattractive scar started near the center of her cheekbone and stretched up past her eye, her eyebrow, and towards her hairline. No wonder Doc had asked if she was tired; she looked as though she hadn't slept in ages. She looked sickly… very sickly. In being honest with herself, she decided she looked more like death. How depressing.

She wondered what Garrus would have said if he had seen what she had done to herself. She couldn't decide if he would be distressed at her lack of motivation to take care of herself or angry because of the immense self-pity she seemed to carry around. But it wasn't self-pity… it was guilt.

"I followed orders, you idiot!" she yelled at the air, directing her words toward her deceased mate. "I came back alive… why didn't you?" she whined. With that, she became overwhelmed with multiple emotions at once – sadness, anger, loneliness, longing. She felt herself starting to choke on sobs. "Don't be stupid, Shepard," she fought. Not knowing what else what to do, she let out a heartbreaking cry and planted her first into that ghastly reflection that kept staring at her. The glass shattered beneath her knuckles, and blood began to make its way down her fingers and trickled down her wrist. "Don't be stupid," she repeated as she snapped back to reality.

"I let them die," she admitted angrily the moment Doc opened his door to her at the next session.

"Nice to see you, too, Shepard. Please take a seat," he said as he motioned for her to take a seat at the usual spot on the couch in his office. "How did your challenge go?"

"Did you not hear me? I let them die!" Shepard exclaimed.

"While saving the galaxy," Doc assured.

"They shouldn't have died."

"They were aware of the risks when joining your team. They knew survival wasn't a certainty."

"But they counted on me," Shepard argued.

"Their sacrifices will never be forgotten."

"Not many people even know their names. It's all 'Commander Shepard, Commander Shepard.' What about Liara T'Soni? Or James Vega?"

"Or Garrus Vakarian?" Doc finished for her.

"Or Garrus Vakarian," she confirmed.

"Their losses are not your fault," Doc said confidently. "Carrying that guilt isn't healthy."

"I noticed," Shepard responded as she raised her injured hand to finger the dark circles under her eyes. Doc took note of what she saying along with the bandages across her knuckles. He seemed to have a difficult time in deciding whether the challenge was successful or not. Always the perceptive one, Shepard responded to the question on Doc's face. "I did the challenge," she started. "A lot happened."

"Like what?" Doc inquired.

"I couldn't handle it," she said, eyeing her bandages. "And I'm trying to figure out if Garrus would be angry with how I've been handling these past several weeks."

"Why would he be angry?"

"We were both soldiers. We were taught how to take care of ourselves, and I don't know if you've noticed, Doc, but I'm not exactly taking proper care of myself."

"You think Garrus would want you to move on?" Shepard looked up and locked eyes with him for a moment. He would, wouldn't he? She began to nod slowly.

"I think he would," she finally said.

"Moving on doesn't mean forgetting," Doc assured, addressing her worry before she was even able to voice it.

"How do I put those deaths behind me?" she asked.

"You can't hold yourself responsible forever. It could kill you if you did." She pondered the idea and let out a sadistic chuckle. "Something funny?" Doc asked.

"Yeah," she admitted. "For a moment there, I considered death over this idea of moving on."

"For a moment?" Doc clarified.

"Until I realized that that's what cowards do," she confessed. "I won't let fear compromise who I am." Funny, that was the second time she had used that same statement in defense of her character.

"Good to hear," Doc approved. "So, Shepard, you've saved a million lives. Why don't you celebrate the lives you've saved?"

"Because it's not good enough," Shepard admitted.

"What if you started saving lives again?"

"That's what I'm trying to do – I just need to get my job back first."

"You don't need to be in the military to save a life," Doc said as an idea lit up his face. "I got it! Your next challenge is to save a life."

"Whoa! You go from looking in a mirror to saving a life? That doesn't seem fair," Shepard argued.

"Like I said, you don't need to be in the military to save a life. You just need to find a way."

A couple days later, Shepard pondered this challenge as she went for her usual run. 'Save a life?' she questioned herself. 'I've saved enough, haven't I?' She scoffed at her own cynicism, but kept running until she rounded the corner in front of her residence.

"Mew," she heard as she reached her door.

"Soldier?" she said aloud. It amused her how this had become the cat's name over time just out of habit. As she directed her eyes down the hall, she saw her friend staring at her expectantly. She thought for a moment and raised her hand to motion him toward her. "C'mon inside. Would you like to come in for dinner? And a home?" It was uncanny how he had seemed to understand her because he immediately stood and trotted over to her door. After rubbing himself up against her calf, he let himself inside. Save a life… check.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **All right to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 5

"A cat. That's nice," Doc confirmed.

"I've never had a pet before, but he's good company."

"What's his name?"

"Soldier," Shepard informed him.

"Ah, seems appropriate," Doc said with a smile. "What's he look like?"

"Gray with blue eyes. Like Garrus's," she said as she smiled to herself. "Not that I'm comparing him to a cat; it's just strangely nice to wake up to big blue eyes staring at me first thing in the morning again." Shepard chuckled to herself, feeling slightly ridiculous. She must have sounded something like a five-year-old.

"Shepard," Doc started, "this week marks the halfway point. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted. "Things seem clearer… I miss my team; I miss Garrus, but I'm slowly beginning to feel like myself again."

"You still feel guilty?" he inquired.

"How can I not?" Shepard countered. "I was summoned to save the world… and it was Garrus who saved _me_. He constantly reminded me what I was fighting for… I really loved him," she finished with a sigh.

"Do you remember that discussion we had the other day? The one where you were concerned about the masses not even knowing the names of your squad mates?"

"Yes, I remember," she said.

"That's your next play, Shepard. I think if you shared their stories – their sacrifices – you may be able to lessen the weight you carry."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"Well, as usual, that's solely up to you," he said. "You've been pretty creative thus far, so I trust you'll do the same in completing this challenge."

"How am I supposed to share their story to so many people?" she asked her furry gray companion as she sat on the floor of her kitchen after her session.

"Mew," he responded simply.

"Thought you might say that," she said jokingly. "You _are_ a cat after all." She sat there, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and sorting through her thoughts. Finally, an idea began to form. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She pushed herself off of the floor and made her way to her message terminal. She had disabled the vid comm capability when she had first moved in, but she decided to enable it for a short time – at least for this brief interaction.

"Commander Shepard," Admiral Hackett greeted.

"Admiral," she returned with a nod – a friendly gesture.

"How has your time away from the madness been treating you?" he inquired, not asking just out of kindness, but out of genuine concern.

"I'm halfway through my required therapy," she informed him without much emotion. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"I want to put up a memorial. For my crew." It wasn't a request.

"There's already a new fountain in place commemorating all lives lost in the war. It's dedicated to all species."

"That's not good enough," she said matter-of-factly. He gave her an inquisitive look. "With all due respect, Sir, I need to do this." He stared for a moment, and with a heavy sigh, he gave a saddened nod.

"I'll approve your inquiry. Forward me your plans, and then I'll allow access to Alliance funds from your omni tool. Keep me posted." The last sentence left a ghost of a smirk on Shepard's lips – almost like old times.

"Will do, Sir," she finished. And as she ended the call, a successful grin spread across her face.

The plans she made weren't ostentatious; they were simple enough to be carried out quickly – just a memorial wall outside the Alliance headquarters in London, but one with their names on it. In reality, it was reminiscent of the memorial wall on the third deck of the Normandy. Shepard thought it appropriate.

She set off to visit it once it had been completed, and her chest tightened as she read the text.

_THIS WALL HONORS THOSE SERVING UNDER COMMANDER B. SHEPARD DURING THE REAPER WAR_

_"GUIDE THEM TO WHERE THE TRAVELER NEVER TIRES"_

Her eyes found the list of names beneath the short prayer, and she lifted her hand to allow her fingertips to trace the inscriptions. They were all there… James, Liara, Kaidan, Tali, and even EDI. She also found the names she had wanted there that she had to fight the committee for… the names of those who helped her in so many ways but weren't on the battlefield with her at the end. Samara, Thane, Grunt, Kasumi, Mordin… she smiled knowing that they would also be remembered for their sacrifices. And at the very top of the list per personal request was Garrus Vakarian. He was her right hand and her companion; that had to count for something. After all, it was him who had kept her going all that time… his words, his voice, his smell, his touch…

"That trip must have been difficult for you," Doc decided after Shepard had told him everything leading up to her visit to the memorial.

"Seeing his name in stone seemed… permanent," she decided.

"That's understandable," Doc said. "Are you aware of the military cemetery where your team rests?" Shepard raised her eyes to him, slightly winded.

"No," she breathed. Why hadn't she heard about this?

"Ah, well," he said. "I would like for you to think about visiting at some point. Not now, of course, but eventually."

"Is that my challenge?" Shepard asked blankly, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the thought.

"Actually, no. I think you're rather rigidly organized. That can be a good thing, but I feel that you may be relying too heavily on routine."

"I'm not sure I follow," she admitted.

"I would like for you to enjoy an unscheduled moment. Something you didn't plan."

'Hm, interesting,' she thought. Doc must have been decoding her face. He was getting pretty good at that.

"You're creative. You'll get there," he said confidently.

A day and a walk to the market later, Shepard could hear live music echoing through the streets. She reminded herself of Doc's challenge and decided to make a detour to track down the source of the music. With this decision made, she was able to follow the echoes to a large sign reading "Annual Music and Arts Festival." There was something nice and reminiscent about this. All these years and the living still appreciated art in its many forms. It was at this festival that Shepard accomplished her eighth challenge.

Challenge nine, however, was just that – a challenge. Doc was handing her a paper envelope at their next meeting.

"What's this?" she questioned, amused at the use of paper files in this day and age.

"Picture profiles of your teammates," he carefully stated, watching her facial features for some reaction. She froze mid-reach. After swallowing a painful surge of energy, she completed the transaction and accepted the envelope. She sat it in her lap and stared at it blankly.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Go ahead," Doc said. "Open it up." Reluctantly and with trembling fingers, Shepard reached in and pulled out a short stack of papers. The picture profile on top wasn't Garrus, which caused her to sigh a brief sigh of relief. Still, facing the picture of Liara was tough on her heart. "Take your time going through these," Doc said. "I want you to take them home with you. The last one, the one after that orange document, is the one I want you to focus on." That was code for 'That's Garrus.'

"You want me to look at him," Shepard decided.

"You've got it," he said with a nod and a sympathetic smile.

Throughout the day, Shepard was able to make her way from one face to the next. While the stinging of pain continued through the process, the comfortable pace, a glass of water, and the purring of Soldier next to her made it bearable. Finally, she came to the orange page Doc had mentioned as the marker just before Garrus's sheet. Instinctively, her fingers began to quiver. She closed her eyes and discarded the orange paper, knowing that Garrus's face would be before her the moment she decided to open her eyes. A deep breath. And then another. When she opened them, her vision was quickly blurred by the coming tears, but she was still able to make out the shape of his face. When the tears finally fell, she could see him clearly. She choked on her air supply and had to look away. A deep breath. She looked back to Garrus's picture and lifted her fingers to trace the curves of his face.

"Garrus," she said. He was beautiful to her. And that would never change.

"Great job, Shepard," Doc told her following the recounting of the challenge.

"He's gone," she admitted, feeling empty inside, but strangely feeling an oncoming sense of peace. It hadn't descended yet, but she believed it was on its way. Doc nodded at her comment.

"Can you forgive yourself for what happened?" he inquired. That was a heavy question, and it took Shepard a moment to process it.

"I want to," she confessed. "But in the end, they were my responsibility. I can't deny that."

"You may have been their commanding officer, but their loss is _not_ a direct result of something you had done wrong."

"I…" Shepard trailed. She couldn't properly respond to that. She had to ponder it for a moment, and as counterintuitive as it seemed to her, what Doc just said made a hell of a lot of sense. "Maybe you're right," she caved.

"That's our next step here, Shepard."

"What is?"

"I'd like for you to forgive yourself. As we've discussed before, that guilt is too heavy a burden to bear, regardless of how many honors appear after your name in military history." He finished with a soft smile. "Think about it."

While lying in bed the next night, Shepard decided to have one of her one-sided conversations with her deceased lover that tended to occur when she was having difficulty sleeping.

"Garrus," she began. "Was it my fault? At first, that's all I could ever consider it – my fault. But I have to admit that Doc may be onto something… should I even be _allowed_ to forgive myself?" Soldier decided to interrupt with a brief mew and a yawn. He stood from his resting spot near Shepard's feet and strode up to her face, burying his head in her neck. "Is that permission?" she asked her cat playfully. She let her mind drift and could almost hear Garrus's dual-toned words of comfort and encouragement.

'It's not your fault, Shepard. You saved so much. Accept that,' she could feel him tell her.

"It's not my fault," she found herself saying out loud. "And I can accept that." Of course, this wasn't said without a surge of emotion. She felt like she wanted to cry again, but instead she just repeated, "It's not my fault," until she was able to find sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **I would have updated sooner, but I went to Hogwarts for Christmas! (The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal's Islands of Adventure in Orlando, Florida). And for some odd reason, my hotel wouldn't let me log onto . Regardless, Merry Christmas, and I hope you enjoy! Much love!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **All rights to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 6

"It's not my fault," she found herself saying once again, but this time to Doc.

"And you believe that?" he checked. Shepard nodded. "How did you get to that place?" he asked.

"I had one of my conversations with him," she said, laughing at herself on the inside. "It's like I could feel him urging me to admit that I did nothing wrong. That I did everything I could."

"Which is correct," Doc confirmed. "Now… I want to talk about the Citadel." Shepard thought for a moment and then nodded once she understood what he was about to fish for.

"I pushed forward. Kept going. I thought I was going to die before even reaching the beam… once I got to the Citadel, people were everywhere. _Pieces_ of people were everywhere," she corrected before continuing. She told him the whole story. The Illusive man, Anderson, and the Catalyst included. "Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. One thing lead to another, and then we met." Doc seemed pleased.

"Thank you for sharing that," he said. "When we first met, you would shut down at any mention of your experience. Things are quite different now, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely," she agreed.

"Only two weeks to go," he informed her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm… waking up." Doc's expression showed his appreciation of this statement. He shifted in his seat, as if readjusting before the next topic.

"So, about the military cemetery," he began. He had Shepard's attention with that. She felt a tinge of anxiety at the mention of it, but she was able to focus on the exchange of words.

"Yeah?" she prompted, letting him know that it was okay to proceed with his line of thinking.

"I would like for you to give your friend Garrus a visit." She knew that was coming. "I could go with you if you'd like…"

"No," she said. "I think I need to do it on my own." He nodded at that; he must have understood.

Shepard stood at the intersection, studying the directions she had to the military cemetery. Two more blocks it said, so she headed in the direction that was indicated. Soon enough, she had come across tall, engraved walls and a flag flying Alliance colors. She stood at the entrance, barely peeking in to see rows and rows of headstones. A fountain stood at the front, the sound of the running water echoing off of the surrounding walls.

"Do you need help finding someone?" a woman asked who stood off to the side next to a map along with a bird's eye view satellite photograph of the grounds.

"Sure," Shepard said. "I'm looking for Garrus Vakarian."

"Vakarian… Vakarian…" said the woman as she ran her finger down a list.

"Served directly under Commander Shepard," she clarified, wondering if that tid-bit of information would speed the process.

"Ah, yes. Here. Garrus Vakarian. Section B, plot 12," she said. It stung a little to hear the woman refer to Garrus as just another plot in a cemetery. "Take the path to the left all the way down, make a right when it splits at the end, and you'll reach him shortly after that. He's the twelfth marked grave on the left.

"Thanks," she said before turning to follow the new directions. She could hear her heart in her ears, quickening with every step. A deep breath. She began counting her steps in order to avoid the sound of her terrified heart. She made her right-hand turn and passed a number of marked graves. She kept count as she passed and stopped just before where Garrus should have been. She couldn't look up at first. Seeing his name etched in a monument was one thing. Seeing his name on a grave stone indicating his lifeless body was lying below was something quite different to Shepard. Another deep breath. She turned to face the grave and slowly raised her eyes.

"Garrus Vakarian," it read. There he was. She glanced quickly around before stepping onto the grass and sitting upon his grave. She dug her fingers into the dirt there and let her eyes sting with some unshed tears.

"Hey there," she whispered. "So, this is different," she said, thinking back to the numerous conversations she had with empty air in her apartment. This time he was lying just beneath her. "I'm sorry I hadn't visited earlier. Truth is I didn't even know about this place… which I'm sure you already know considering how often I already talk to you," she said with a smile. That is where she stayed for the remainder of the day. Sometimes talking, sometimes silent and just enjoying the cool air on her cheeks. Some people passed, nodding their sentiments as they continued to walk by. Shepard also took note of the other people who seemed to be copying her very action of sitting and talking to the deceased loved one. It was before the sun began to set that a woman, maybe around Shepard's age, came to sit at the plot directly next to her.

"Hi," she said as she sat down with a packaged dessert. "Your husband?" she asked, nodding towards Garrus's headstone.

"Almost," Shepard sighed.

"I'm sorry," the woman said.

"Thanks. Yours?" Shepard returned the question as she motioned to the headstone her neighbor was sitting before.

"Yeah. Today would have been our 5 year anniversary," she said with a smile. "Explains the sweet snack." Shepard returned a sympathetic smile.

"…How are you doing it? Getting by?" Shepard asked, redirecting her gaze toward Garrus's name. The woman sighed before responding.

"I take one day at a time. Besides, we have a little boy I need to look after. I can't be a mother if I'm busy chasing his memory. Sure, memories are something truly special, but as all the great ones say, you can't live in the past… care to share my anniversary dessert with me?" Shepard smiled and accepted the offer. Time went by, allowing the two widows to exchange stories, fears, and hopes. By the time shadows began to stretch throughout the park, attendants began to pace the pathways, informing the visitors that the gates would soon be closing.

"It was really great getting to talk with you," the woman said, whose name Shepard had learned was Jen. "Remember, if you'd ever like to chat, you've got my contact info."

"Sure thing," Shepard said as she stood. Before turning to leave the cemetery, she brushed her fingers over Garrus's name in the stone. "I love you," she whispered before planting a kiss upon the letters there. This wouldn't be the last time she made a visit, for Shepard had rather enjoyed the day she had spent with friends, both old and new.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **This is it! It's the last chapter! Thank you everyone for your patience and support. You'll notice something special about this chapter... I've included the lyrics to Halestorm's "Break In." This particular song was such a great inspiration for continuing this story. Look it up! Hopefully, it will reach you the same way it reached me. :) Anyway, I hope it will make for a conclusion full of feels. Thank you again! Much love to all!

**Disclaimer: **All rights to Mass Effect belong to Bioware, not me.

**Waking Up**

Chapter 7

_Put your lighter in the air and lead me back home_

_When it's all said and done, I'll follow the echo_

"So, you think you'll return?"

"To the cemetery?" Shepard asked Doc. He nodded in the affirmative. "Absolutely," she said honestly. "That woman I met even invited me to join a widow's group." Doc smiled at that. "I haven't decided whether I'll actually join or not, but it's nice to have that option… the opportunity for new friendships."

"Very good," Doc said encouragingly. "It's good that you won't let the old friendships prevents you from forming new ones."

"I just can't keep doing this to myself," she sighed. Shepard knew that the uncomfortable bout of misery and depression wasn't her and that it was time to start anew. But what was supposed to come next?

_I hear you night after night calling out my name_

_And I find myself running to meet you_

"This is our last session," Doc suddenly reminded her. Shepard was taken aback. It had already been twelve weeks? Doc registered the subtle shock on her face and responded with "are you ready for that?" Shepard shifted uncomfortably in her seat, contemplating his inquiry.

"I am so thankful for your patience. And your guidance," she said. Doc glowed. 'I would be lost without it,' she finished mentally. Would she be able to keep growing in her recovery without this man as her coach?

"Separation anxiety?" Doc questioned. Of course, he could see right through her.

"Yes," she admitted.

_I didn't want to escape from the bricks that I laid down_

"You know, just because our _required_ sessions are complete does not mean we can never meet again. Please feel free to come see me if you ever feel the need," he said. Shepard relaxed slightly at that.

"I've just lost so many people, it's strange losing someone else…"

"No dear, you're not losing me. You're outgrowing me," he said through a warm smile. Shepard returned his expression with a half-smile of her own.

_You are the only one, only one that sees me_

_Trusts me and believes me_

"But our challenges!" she suddenly realized.

"What about them?"

"We've only done eleven."

Doc nodded. "So we have," he said. "We're going to part today with me giving you your last challenge. Of course, I won't be following up with you on this, so this is completely on you." Shepard nodded her head once. He sighed and leaned forward. "Decide."

"Decide?" Shepard echoed. "Decide what?"

"Decide what to do next," he said. Uncanny. She had been concerned of this very thing not moments before.

"How do I do that?" she asked, genuinely interested in what he was trying to ask of her.

"Well, there are several questions you need to ask yourself. Do you want to continue in your line of work? Is it time for a change of pace? How about a change of scenery? What do _you _want, Shepard?"

_You are the only one, only one that knows me_

_And in the dark you show me_

The walk back to her apartment was lonely but determined. Shepard knew what she wanted; it was just going to be a matter of getting it. But she was Commander Shepard of the Normandy, veteran of the Alliance. She knew how to stand her ground and work her way through all the logistics and technicalities. But many would consider this new direction out of character for Shepard. Nah, she had had enough "in-character" to last a lifetime. Now was the opportunity for change.

"Shepard, you look well," Hackett told her at their meeting for the consideration of her reinstatement the following week.

"Thank you. I feel well," she responded as she took her seat across from him at his desk. She saw her file open on his terminal in front of him. It was this meeting that would determine her future.

"What did you think of Dr. Barton?" he asked conversationally. It took her a moment to connect the dots and realize he was talking about Doc. They had established such a friendly relationship that she had almost forgotten his professional title.

"He was a great fit for me. We worked well together, and I think you'll be pleased with my progress," she told him.

"Indeed, I am," he said as he nodded toward his terminal. "I received your official evaluation yesterday, and not only am I pleased, I am impressed." His eyes smiled as he finished his statement, and Shepard turned up the corner of her mouth and gave a subtle nod in appreciation.

_Yeah, it's perfectly reckless_

_Damn, you leave me defenseless_

_So break in_

_Break in_

"The Normandy is yours if you'd like to return," he continued.

"Thank you, Admiral," Shepard acknowledged. "I thank you for your consideration, but I believe it's time to retire. Start with a clean slate." This admission triggered a genuine smile on the Admiral's face, but Shepard had a strange sensation spreading in her chest that made her want to weep. But why? Relief? Sadness? This whole scenario was bittersweet to her.

"You deserve it," Hackett confirmed.

"Thank you," Shepard said again in a quick breath.

_You let me fall apart without letting go_

_Then you pick up the pieces, and you make me whole_

"So, where do you plan to retire?" Hackett asked out of sole curiosity as he arranged the official documents needed in order to initiate Shepard's military departure on his terminal. "Here in London?"

"Somewhere tropical," she answered, a smile playing at her lips. She was doing it! She was still going to be able to carry out Garrus's final plans for them.

"I know this great area in Costa Rica," he suggested, and Shepard smiled gratefully in return.

_I didn't want to escape from the bricks that I laid down_

Shepard worried slightly at how Soldier would adjust being in such a warm place, but after he saw that the whole backyard was his personal litter box, he seemed to settle in rather quickly. The beachfront property was exactly how she had pictured her retirement with Garrus. She leaned against the glass door facing the ocean and sipped at her iced tea when the chimed echoed through the home, signaling a visitor. Shepard perked at the sound and excitedly set down her drink to greet her guest.

"Mrs. Banks! Please come in!"

"Thank you, Ms. Shepard," the visitor said with a smile and a nod. The two women sat across from one another at the kitchen table, and once Mrs. Banks organized all the necessary records, she spoke warmly. "Congratulations," she began. "Everything checks out perfectly. Stoyan will be ready to move in with you rather quickly. We just need your verification and signature on a few more documents before we can complete the adoption process." Shepard nodded, a familiar spark returning to her irises as they fell upon a three dimensional photograph of a young Turian boy.

_You are the only one, only one that sees me_

_Trusts me and believes me_

_You are the only one, only one that knows me_

_And in the dark you show me_

_Yeah, it's perfectly reckless_

_Damn, you leave me defenseless_

_So break in_

_Break in_

"I have a personal question if you don't mind me asking Ms. Shepard," the adoption counselor began. "I've been asking this off the record for all inter-species adoptions since the Reaper War." Shepard nodded, an unspoken nudge for the woman to continue with her inquiry. "How are you going to explain to your son why you and he look so different?" Shepard gave a whole-hearted smile, knowing the answer long before Mrs. Banks even thought to ask the question.

"That's an easy one," Shepard stated. Mrs. Banks looked at her warmly, yet expectantly. "It's because he looks like his father."

_Put your lighter in the air and lead me back home..._

-END-


End file.
